


The Queen and Her Prime Minister

by MirandaRiver



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 00:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13963164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaRiver/pseuds/MirandaRiver
Summary: William Lamb, 2nd Viscount of Melbourne, has no desire to be Prime Minister. Unfortunately, he is called to duty by a little Queen that seems to always get what she wants. At first, they disagree on virtually anything, but there is a fine line between love and hate. Oh, I should probably add that Melbourne is considerably younger than he is in the series, based on a suggestion I saw on the Vicbourne facebook group of what if Victoria met the young Melbourne.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short chapter, but a necessary one to set up the stage.

Caroline Lamb threw a 150 year old vase at her husband’s head.

Needless to say, she did not take the prospect of divorce well. She cried, she begged, she pleaded, and she blamed him for her divorce with Byron. In his defense, he took it well. He stoically took her accusations, not bothering to respond to them and deftly dodged the vase. Frankly, he was glad the vase was in shatters, he always hated the thing but it was a family heirloom from Caro’s family and he couldn’t find a way to get rid of the damn thing. 

He knew that the divorce would not look good for his career. There would be scandal, of course, but there was already scandal surrounding the Lamb family. Byron was known for his sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll lifestyle that he was almost a Russell Brand like figure. He wrote tell-all books about his exploits and was photographed everywhere, especially nightclubs. Caro was photographed with him, so there was already scandal surrounding the partying wife of the Prime Minister. 

Frankly, William was tired. He was tired of the politics, tired of the scandal, and wanted to spend the rest of his life in Brocket Hall, looking after his rooks and his orchids and writing his books. He was tired of the hustle and bustle of London, even more tired of his wife and her exploits.

“How could you do this to me?!” she screamed.  
He didn’t bother with an answer. He knew it was futile. They would just get into this same argument that they always got into—her affairs, her clubbing, his career, how he was never home, the list went on and one. It just simply wasn’t worth it.  
He turned on his heel and went up to his office, his refuge. He instructed his butler that he was not to be disturbed, especially by Lady Melbourne. He may as well some work done.

Unbeknownst to him, the old king was dying.  
He was surrounded by his wife and his bastard son, each grieving in their own way. George felt guilt over not spending more time with his father, which his wife, Adelaide, mourned the fact that their happy marriage was coming to an end. Moreover, they had no children, and the heir would go to the little princess, Alexandrina Victoria, who was rumored to be a simple dwarf who spoke only German. Supposedly, she was a plain child, sheltered by her mother and her “companion” Sir John Conroy. After all of her husband’s hard work, Adelaide couldn’t believe that the monarchy was going to this simple child. Of course, she had never met the girl, so for all she knew that these were just vicious rumors, but it was hard not to believe them when her mother was so…German.  
“Adelaide,” William whispered.  
Adelaide leaned closer. “What is it, my love?”  
“I did it, I told you I would. I wouldn’t let those vulture brothers of mine have the throne and now that little princess is going to be Queen.” His voice was weak, but Adelaide could tell the pride in his voice.  
“Yes, my love, you did it.”  
“Eighteen years and two months, that will stop that harpy of a mother and her “companion” from being regents.”  
Adelaide started to worry about the excitement William was getting himself into. “Hush now, my love, why don’t you rest for a while?”  
William nodded. “Yes, yes, I think that is a good idea.”  
Those were the last words the king spoke.


	2. In Which News of the King's Death Reaches William and Victoria

There was a tentative knock on William’s door. He looked up from his desk, papers littered everywhere and a brandy decanter in the corner. The place looked like a tornado torn threw it, but William preferred it that way.  
“What?” he called somewhat belligerently, not wishing to be disturbed at this hour.  
“My lord, I think you’ll want to see the morning papers,” his butler, Trenton, said cautiously.  
“If it’s about my wife and her…escapes, I don’t want to hear about it,” William said decisively.  
“I think you’ll want to read this, my lord,” Trenton insisted.  
Trenton rarely insisted on anything, and that was enough to pique William’s interest. He opened the door, taking the papers from Trenton and skimming over them. It seemed the old king had died and speculation had begun about this new girl who would become Queen. William had heard the rumors, of course. Her dwarfism, her German-ness, how plain and ordinary she was. He knew that the Baroness and Sir John Conroy kept the girl under lock and key and he wondered if she would rebel under that or if she was fine in her gilded cage. Not that he honestly cared—he planned to retire as prime minister and live out his days in peace. God knows he deserved it after Caro.   
The Queen was just going to have to deal with that.

 

Alexandrina Victoria woke up with a start. She wasn’t quite sure why, but it seemed like her life was about to change.   
Almost as if on cue, Lehzen came bursting through the door, informing her that the Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Conyngham were there to see her.  
Her ministers. That meant that her dear uncle King had died, and now she was Queen of England.   
Her head spun at the thought.  
“Thank you, Lehzen, I shall see them presently,” Alexandrina said with all the regality she could muster.  
She put on her white dress, the one she hated but her mother said made her look regal and today of all days she needed to look regal. Lehzen offered to walk her to the meeting room, but Alexandrina refused. She was queen now, and she did not need a babysitter. She perfectly knew how to walk herself.  
The men, especially the Archbishop, were imposing. They bowed, kissed her hand and informed her that now she was Queen of England. She nodded her head she hoped regally and asked them when she was to form a government.  
Lord Conyngham looked surprised. “I was unaware you were knowledgeable about the inner workings of government, ma’am.”  
Alexandrina bristled. “I have been preparing this for my whole life, Lord Congyngham. I should prefer the government run as smoothly as possible.”  
Lord Conyngham bowed. “With your permission, ma’am, I will send the Prime Minister presently.”  
Alexandrina nodded. “See that he does.”  
The men bowed, making their exit. She sighed in relief, hoping that went as well as it possibly could have.   
Then, she heard footsteps she dreaded. Her mother and Sir John were approaching.   
“Drina!” Her mother exclaimed. “How I have waited for this day!” Her mother hugged her, the expensive French perfume she wore overwhelming Alexandrina’s senses.   
Alexandrina sighed. “As I have reminded you, mother, I am now 18 years old and in no longer need of a regent. I am fully capable of ruling myself.”  
Her mother tsked. “You are still a young girl, Drina, and in need of guidance. Sir John will happily serve you, as he has served as faithfully for all these years.”  
Alexandrina pursed her lips. The very last thing she wanted was to be ruled by her mother and Sir John. She was eighteen, for heaven’s sake, old enough to own her own mind. But, this was an old argument, and she wasn’t sure that it was entirely productive one to have.  
“I’ll take it under consideration, Mama,” she said resolutely. That always seemed to calm her mother down.  
Not this time.  
“Drina, you need to think about the country. Sir John has been in politics for years now and is in an invaluable resource to you.”  
Drina sighed. “Of course he is, Mother. He is also the man who insisted that I stay at Kensington Palace despite the invitations to Buckingham House made by my uncle the King. If Sir John had his way, he would be king himself.”  
The look on the Baroness’s face was priceless. “Drina! How can you say such things about the man who practically raised you!”  
Alexandrina’s face turned stony. “He didn’t raise me, Mother. He made sure that I was his puppet.”  
And with that, she turned her heel and left the room, wondering what this Prime Minister would be like.  
Hopefully, not like Sir John.


End file.
